To Be With You
by EloraVashara
Summary: PxJ, Oneshot. Slight AU Bayverse. Jazz would be waiting there for Prowl no matter what...but does that include death?  NOT A REAL DEATH FIC-There is a happy ending here!  Please review, even if just to say you enjoyed it!  or not...


To Be With You

By Elora Vashara

Jazz rushed down the halls of one of the last Autobot bases left on all of Cybertron, hoping he wasn't too late to snatch a goodbye with Prowl before he left. He knew what conditions were like here and that they would most likely deteriorate very quickly. He was part of a group Optimus had servo-picked to accompany him after the All-Spark's launch, comprised of Optimus, himself, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Bumblebee. The remaining Autobots were slated to leave in their now assigned groups sometime after the main group's departure. However, Prowl was in the last group-he had to stay to maintain order, and since he was the best tactician he was also the most logical choice to ensure the base remained safely hidden from the searching Decepticons until all had safely departed as well. That meant there would be a significant gap between when they might see each other again, and Jazz knew he had to 'fess up now, and tell Prowl what his spark had known for a long time, before it was too late to do so.

He swung around the final corner and sprinted the last few steps, skidding to a halt outside Prowl's office and knocking hurriedly on the door. It whooshed open after a seconds pause and Jazz stepped in, suddenly feeling far more nervous that he had a nano-click ago. To stall for time, he shut the door behind him, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I...Prowler..." He faltered-how did one start a conversation like this? "I'm...ah, I'm leavin' here real soon, and I jus'...wanted ta say goodbye, ya know?" He tried and failed spectacularly at mustering a smile for his best friend.

Prowl nodded, standing and approaching the nervous silver mech, noting that he seemed to be holding something back. He offered a small smile, with the hopes of relaxing the only mech he considered his best friend...and more, though he knew it wasn't wise to start such things in the middle of a war.

"I wouldn't have let you leave without saying goodbye, Jazz...Ah, it seems as though you wish to say more. Do you...?"

"Yeah." Jazz cast a glance at his pedes before venting some cooler air through his systems and mustering his courage. "I...really wanted to say this before I left, ya know? Because who knows when we'll see each other again. Prowler, ya know I consider ya my best friend, and that's never gonna change, but...I jus'...slag," the silver mech cursed as he made his decision. His crystalline blue visor slid up and he took Prowl's face between his servos, standing on the tips of his pedes to gently press his lip plates against the Praxian mech's own. He pulled back after barely more than a nano-click, nervously appraising the tactician's surprised expression.

"Jazz..." Prowl began, before being gently interrupted by a finger laid on his still tingling lip plates.

"Prowl, I've know for a long time in mah spark that you're more to me than jus' a friend. I love you with all mah spark...I had ta tell ya before I left, in case either one of us doesn't make it. I'll...I guess I'll understand if ya don' feel the same way, but I jus' wanted ya ta know how I felt." He finally pulled back from the tactician, missing the contact (and knowing in advance that he would) the moment it was gone.

"Jazz," Prowl began again, a small, surprised smile gracing his face, "I...had hoped you felt the same way. I too have come to think of you as much more than a friend. But...now we must go our separate ways. You're leaving soon," a pained expression slipped across Prowls face as he took Jazz's servos in his own, "and the chances are unfortunately high that we may never see each other again. But if we do...I want this, Jazz. I want us."

"Hey," the saboteur soothed, a smile on his face despite the situation, "_I can imagine two worlds spinnin' apart come together eventually..._ Remember that, Prowl. We will find each other again. Ah promise." Just then, his comm pinged.

**"Jazz, it's time to head out."** Optimus' voice rang through the connection. **"Meet us in the hangar-Skyfire is giving us a lift to the upper atmosphere so we can launch directly into space, as planned."**

**"Yes, Sir. I'll be there shortly,"** Jazz replied before glancing back at Prowl, hesitant to actually say goodbye.

The black and white surprised him by planting a lingering, warm kiss on his mouth. Prowl pulled back a fraction, his lip plates brushing Jazz's as he whispered,

"Promise you'll stay safe for me. I love you."

"Ah promise. I love you, too." Jazz whispered back before venting quietly, wishing they'd had just a few clicks more. "I...hafta go." _I wish we could stay here forever._

"Don't be late, then. Goodbye, Jazz." _I know. I _will_ see you again._

"Yeah. Goodbye, Prowl." _I promise you will._

Jazz spent his first real night on Earth gazing at the stars, wondering, as he often had over the vorns of travel, where Prowl was. It could have been more than a vorn before he'd even left Cybertron, depending on the situation. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, and he daren't wonder about what-ifs and could-have-beens-there was nothing he could do about those. Something big was brewing, he knew that. It was coming, and soon, and he had never felt less prepared before in his life. What would happen on this planet was anybody's guess, but with the Allspark involved it would no doubt be a major turning point for the Cybertronian race, one way or another.

The humans they had met had described their descent as looking like falling stars, so Jazz was watching the clear alien skies above, hoping to see a certain tactician fall to Earth despite the great improbability of such an occurrence. This organic planet was so different from Cybertron, even the dark of night was altered, with a gleaming white moon reflecting the sun's rays across the landscape. He idly regarded the light glimmering on his silver armor, thinking that it would look so much better on glowing white and shimmering, inky black.

Several days later their final confrontation with Megatron was beginning, and though Sam, Mikaela and the other Autobots had made it to the city, Optimus had been stalled by a Decepticon ambush on the freeway. Jazz was the next-highest ranking officer present, and as Megatron began to tear into the city it fell to him to distract the titan until Optimus arrived. Prowl's parting words rang in his audios-"Stay safe for me"-but he knew duty called. He had to put others before himself, and so he gamely swung and leapt over to Brawl, roughly bending the tank's main barrel before vaulting up to confront Megatron. He landed a few valiant hits on the giant grey leader before Megatron's too-quick grasp caught up to him. He winced as the huge, clawed servos wrapped around him, one pinning his arms up uncomfortably and crushing his shoulders and the other pinning his legs. Violent tension ripped through his torso, and he only had a fraction of a nano-click to widen his optics in comprehension before everything went dark.

Prowl was nearing his final destination-he had honed in on Optimus' beacon transmission and had been following it for quite some time. His spark fluttered happily whenever he thought of Jazz-on this new planet, Earth, perhaps the war would subside and they could live in peace. They could finally see where their mutual respect and attraction led. They certainly hadn't been friends at first. Jazz had been disorganized, sloppy with reports, and acted far too carefree to be any sort of officer in Prowl's opinion at the time. Jazz had seen him as a tight-aft officer who was far too strict with regulations. They hadn't seen optic-to optic on anything, and had bickered over everything from the duty roster to battle plans. After nearly a deca-cycle of constant argument Optimus had locked them in the conference room and helpfully informed them over the intercom that they weren't coming out until they had resolved their issues.

Nearly a whole day later, Prowl had commed Optimus, informing him that they could be let out. They were ordered to their quarters for some much needed recharge, and though things had been a little rocky at first Prowl began to truly realize how cunning Jazz could be as he included him more and more in his mission planning. Jazz found that while Prowl was extremely dedicated to his work, he did still have a personality, and a wickedly dry sense of humor. After a vorn or so of comfortable communication between the two, Prowl made the first move and asked Jazz if he'd like to play a game of Supremacy after their shifts. Surprisingly, the lithe saboteur had agreed, and it quickly became routine for them to meet after their shifts to play or talk, or watch an entertainment vid. It became commonplace to see them conversing as they walked down the halls together, and half the time Jazz would do his work in Prowl's office, occasionally asking for or offering input on different situations.

Prowl noted that it was time to shut down into stasis again to conserve energy and did so, his final thoughts on Jazz's reassurance during their last conversation, _"I can imagine two worlds spinnin' apart come together eventually..."_

The first thing Jazz was aware of was that he had no body. He could _see_ but he had no optics to online. He could _move_ but he had no arms or legs to propel himself with. He wasn't sure if he could hear, as there was no sound to be heard. Everything seemed dark, but there was a certain dimension to it, as though it was a definable space that contained him. As he gazed around himself he gradually became aware of a very small, very dim light in the distance. Curious, as was his nature, he bobbed along towards it unsteadily, still not sure of this new method of movement. He knew distance only by how large it became in his field of view, and when he could make it out clearly, he stopped to observe.

It appeared to be a giant, swirling vortex of lights-some bright blue, some teal green, all co-mingling happily. Happily...How could he tell they were happy? He observed more closely, checking his senses, and became aware of a sound unlike any other. It was joyous, swelling, and sung by millions of voices countless in diversity. It tugged at him strangely, and he felt compelled to sing as well, to join everyone else over there, to leave behind identity and self and become lost in being one voice singing one song. He drifted closer, unable to stop himself, and was getting close-so close!-when he hit an invisible wall.

**NO**

Confused, Jazz reacted out of habit, speaking before he realized he had a way to speak.

_Why not?_

**IT IS MY WILL**

_And who are you? Oh-_

**PRIMUS**

_...Primus, if I may ask...Why is it your will that I not join the Well of All Sparks?_ He asked, glancing once more at the multi-hued whirlpool. It pulled him so strongly; all he wanted was to satisfy that urge. He couldn't remember what had brought him here, but it seemed like such a wonderful place…

**IT IS NOT YOUR TIME. YOU WERE NOT TO BE EXTINGUISHED. YOU WILL BE RETURNED WHEN I DEEM IT APPROPRIATE.**

Jazz prodded a bit further.

_When will that be?_ He was met with silence, and when it seemed no answer was forthcoming he turned away from the Well to travel around the darkness, and see what he could find. After only a moment's movement though, light swelled up before him, expanding into a vaguely mirror-like shape that was quite large. An image formed on the screen and Jazz realized it was showing him Earth. He thought of Optimus and the others and was instantly rewarded with their appearances on the screen. He was...watching them go about their lives. Optimus was currently in conference with several Earth politicians; Ironhide was doing shooting practice rather viciously, no doubt working out frustrations over something; Bumblebee was unconscious in the makeshift med bay Ratchet had apparently erected in the abandoned aircraft hangar that was their new base. And Ratchet was at the far end of the med bay, slowly and carefully working at piecing his mangled body back together.

With a jolt he realized what had happened. Mission City. Megatron. Optimus had been stalled, and he'd been the only one available. His memories blacked out just before the actual memory of his offlining, thankfully, but he still remembered how it had happened. Primus, what a way to go. With nothing else to do and no time frame concerning Primus' plans for him, he settled in for the long haul.

Years in the lives of the Earth Autobots passed, Jazz watching over them as new arrivals and new troubles arose. Finally, five years after their initial arrival, there were twenty-two mechs on Earth, two of which were Prowl's brothers, Bluestreak and Smokescreen, but Prowl himself was absent. Jazz knew he had only to think of a mech and the screen would show him what that mech was doing at that very moment in time, but it only worked for those on Earth. He thought often of the missing Autobot SIC, but held on to the hope that Prowl was still alive and out there, somewhere. He could observe Decepticon forces on and directly around Earth, and so, like the good saboteur he was, he eavesdropped on all their meetings and committed whatever useful long-term intel he came across to memory. He had no idea how long it might be until he was returned to his now complete body, which still lay under a drop cloth in the back of the med bay. They had suffered no more permanent casualties, and had built quite an impressive base during their stay on Earth. After the incident with the Fallen, the Autobot's presence on Earth had been revealed, and though relations with the world's governments were shaky for a while, it was finally settling down.

As entertaining as the screen could be (he could just cruise the view around until he found a television tuned into one of his favorite shows) after five years Jazz was going stir-crazy. He talked, hummed, sang, and bounced around his otherwise pitch-dark "home" with a view-of the Well. When he really needed a break from watching Earth he would gaze at the Well of All Sparks, the song no longer drawing him in. Occasionally he would glimpse a new spark being drawn into the Well, its own voice joining the rest in perpetual, synchronized movement and song. He soon knew the tune by heart, though it was long, and caught himself humming it on occasion.

It was after he'd stopped himself humming it for the last time that he decided to check on Prowl's proximity-he could investigate anything on Earth or in orbit around it-and concentrated briefly on the screen, bringing up a familiar memory of Prowl. He'd expected the usual response, which usually consisted of the screen turning light gray. The cosmic equivalent of "satellite signal lost," he assumed. This time it turned black, and he took a moment to adjust his vision. It wasn't black, he quickly determined, as he picked out stars and a light source from an odd direction. He was looking at an odd angle of the uppermost edge of Earth's atmosphere; Earth itself was just out of sight. However, he was more interested in what looked to be a meteor of some kind just entering Earth atmosphere at a level angle for descent. He'd been denied the sight of Prowl for so long it took a moment for his processors to catch up-that wasn't a meteor!

A thrill leapt through his spark as he zoomed the view in and positively identified the markings on the pod's outer shell to be Cybertronian. Jazz didn't know what Primus had in store for him, but he hoped dearly that it involved him being in his body again. Soon. He carefully tracked the tactician's descent, estimating that he would make a solid landing just a quarter mile north from the main Autobot headquarters. And since Prowl was nothing if not accurate, that was exactly where he landed a day later. Jazz was eagerly panning his view around to see which 'bots would arrive first when the screen went completely black. No...it was gone! Before he had time to really process what was happening he felt a sharp, needling jolt through his form. His view of the Well was growing dim and fuzzy, and his consciousness eventually swirled into oblivion.

Prowl booted up from stasis, carefully checking systems to make sure they were operating within acceptable parameters, and slowly unfolded from his deep space travel mode. His optics took a good moment to adjust to the light and atmosphere of this organic planet Prime had called them to, and he took a good look at his current surroundings. He'd landed exactly one quarter mile north of where Prime's beacon signal was emanating from, which appeared to be a decent sized Cybertronian compound. Shaking the moist soil from between wires and joints, he stepped away from the small crater his impact had created and observed several odd vehicles approaching across the soft, fairly level, plant covered ground. His internal radar and identification functions helpfully informed him that they were none other than Optimus Prime, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, and Ratchet.

The vehicles finally drew close and Prowl stood at attention as the four transformed, shooting Optimus a sharp salute which was promptly returned.

"At ease, Prowl," the mech relaxed his stance as Optimus continued, "It's good to have you here. I trust everyone made it off Cybertron?"

"Yes, sir. Cybertron is completely under Decepticon martial law, currently. To my knowledge, no Autobots remain on the planet."

"I'd figured as much," Optimus sighed before glancing at Bluestreak, who was bouncing slightly on the tips of his pedes and looked about ready to burst. Smokescreen was fighting a grin. "Well, I suppose you two would like to greet your brother..."

Before the sentence was finished Blue had flung himself at Prowl and was practically crushing him in a hug while keeping up a steady stream of dialogue.

"Oh Prowl it's so great to see you it's been so long, like vorns! And the twins have been up to all sorts of mischief but it's not the same without you here to do anything about it and these humans-they're the organics here-are so fascinating and Bumblebee is great friends with some and Oh! He got his legs blown off when they all first got here but he's better now don't worry it must have been awful I wasn't here though but I bet it hurt he said he still fought after that but...!"

Smokescreen cut him off gently while Prowl chuckled at their younger brother's enthusiasm. Blue reluctantly released Prowl to let Smokescreen give him a hug too.

"It's good to see you, Prowl. Blue's right, it isn't the same without you here."

Prowl let out a rare grin, the absolute loneliness of space receding in his brothers' presence. Their shared moment of just reconnecting with each other through their sibling bond was interrupted by Ratchet _Harrumphing_ in their general direction.

"Well, if you two don't mind I believe I have a patient to get to the med bay for an examination, some energon, and recharge." He gave Prowl a very pointed look that brooked no argument from the exhausted tactician. He nodded in response and the five turned to begin walking back to base. Prowl didn't have an Earth alt mode yet, so they all walked out of respect. They made some small talk and were nearly at the main doors to the base when Prowl hesitated and glanced up at Optimus, who took notice.

"Yes, Prowl?"

"Sir, I'm just wondering...ah, where is Jazz? I would've expected him to greet me as soon as I arrived, unless he's busy..." His doorwings fluttered uncertainly, unwilling to ponder how he might've finished his sentence. The immediate drop in the group's mood did not go unnoticed, and his spark twisted uncomfortably as his doorwings drooped to lay closer to his back.

"Optimus...sir? What's happened?"

Pain was one of the first things Jazz registered as stagnant energon began to force its way through his systems once more and all his sensory data came flooding in at once-sight, smells, touch, taste, sounds-everything was too bright and harsh, the blanket that had covered his body and face thrown off by his initial spasm. After a great moment of panic he drew the conclusion that he had been returned to his body, though it felt clumsy and awkward after all his time spent as a spark floating in the void near the Well. The silver saboteur calmed himself and adjusted his optics to the lighting before relaxing on the stiff medical berth and checking his systems as well as wiggling various limbs to ensure they still functioned. Primus, but he felt so heavy! It took a bit of thinking to coordinate the movements to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the berth, but he managed. He cautiously laid a clawed servo over his spark chamber, relieved to hear it pulsing away steadily like it always had before he died.

What a strange thought to have.

A staticky chuckle escaped him and he slowly eased himself into a standing position, leaning on the edge of the berth for support until his stabilizing gyros were accustomed to that position and could react to his movements. Taking a few cautious steps forward, he found his joints were stiff but his systems were warming up and able to keep him upright without the aid of the berth. He shuffled over to the medical bay's energon dispenser and filled half a cube to drink-surely his systems would appreciate new fuel after being dead for about five years. The fresh liquid warmed him, and he noticed his systems picking up speed and efficiency almost immediately.

With a start, he remembered that Prowl had just landed outside, and the promise he had made just before leaving Cybertron. Well, he had kept it, in a sort of roundabout way, he supposed. But no one else had known that Jazz wasn't truly dead and lost forever-to them, he'd been dead since shortly after their arrival. So what would they tell Prowl if he asked...? _Oh, no._ Jazz thought, and limped as quickly as he could to the med bay doors. Walking was slower, but he had just discovered that his right knee joint had seized up, so transforming into his alt mode wasn't really an option. Palming the doors open he staggered down the thankfully empty hallway. He had virtually traveled the corridors of the base so often during his time away he knew exactly where he was, and that his newly alive self wouldn't be a secret much longer.

He was certainly eager to catch up with the mechs on base, but his only concern right now was Prowl, who was expecting him, who loved him, who had made him essentially promise to not get himself killed. He felt like a bit of an aft for letting that happen-though honestly he'd have done the same thing given the choice. He broke into a limping run, and his subsequent skid around the next corner unlocked his knee joint, startling his still-slow systems and making him stumble and hit the ground. Dizzily, he clawed himself back upright using the wall to keep him that way as his gyros seemed to be malfunctioning once more. Amazingly, he hadn't encountered a single mech while moving through the base, and his goal was just ahead-the main doors to the compound on the north side, undoubtedly the ones Prowl would be coming in through. Nearly there...

"I'm sorry, Prowl." Optimus intoned sadly, his expression telling Prowl all he needed to know, but Optimus continued, "He was killed shortly after our arrival. He sacrificed his own life to save thousands more."

"N-no...no, oh Primus, please no..." His vocalizer hitched, laced with static as his intakes stuttered. He stumbled forward a step then fell to his knees, a choked sob escaping. His processor was whirling, trying to compute the sudden change of events. "Jazz...oh Jazz, you _promised!_ You...y-you promised, you said you loved me and you _promised!_" His doorwings were trembling violently, and he could feel a processor ache building rapidly—if it wasn't headed off it would lead to a crash. His spark felt as though it was being incinerated, everything he had hoped he could have with Jazz was gone, ripped from his grasp.

Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Ratchet and Optimus shared a worried glance as they stepped forward to comfort the grieving tactician. They'd known that he would take it hard, that the two had been very close friends, but they hadn't known it had been anything more than that. If it had, Optimus suspected it hadn't been going on for long before their departure.

"Prowl..." He began hesitantly, but was cut off by the sound of the front doors opening. Distracted, he glanced up to see who it was-and to ask them for a little privacy-and started, his optics widening in shock as he recognized the figure in the doorway. "Jazz?" He cried incredulously, wondering if this was some glitch and he was just seeing things. He glanced at Bluestreak and Smokescreen to gauge their reactions, and their faces, along with Ratchet's muttered, "What in Primus' name...?" confirmed that he was indeed seeing Jazz.

The recently revived spy gave them a weak smile and wave before making his unsteady way to Prowl's side. The tactician had his face buried in his servos, the points of his ruby chevron peeking out from between his fingers, doorwings flat against his back as he sobbed. He might have been able to contain his grief had these been more normal circumstances, but he'd just landed from deep space travel and his systems were all running on backup. His battle computer had gotten used to the sparse interaction that space afforded, and now it had gotten stuck in a loop. _Promised, promised, promised!_

"You promised..." he whispered, "you said you'd stay safe...I love you so much, it hurts, oh Primus..." Jazz gently laid shaking a hand on Prowl's shoulder, then carefully pulled the tactician into a hug, planting a kiss on top of the smooth white helm.

"Well, I always do mah best ta keep mah promises, Prowler, ya know me." His voice was far rougher than normal, and laced with occasional bursts of static, but it was most definitely his. He grinned as the sobs ceased abruptly.

"Wha...?" Prowl jerked his head up to find that he was being embraced by the mech he'd just been informed was dead. "Jazz...?" It was too much for his logic centers to handle and after a very still and shocked moment of staring at the silver mech's face his optics flickered off as his body went slack.

"Well, slag." Jazz commented brightly, glancing over his shoulder at the four stunned Autobots. "Ratch, I think you'll be wantin' him in th' med bay, am ah right?" None of them responded to his question-they were all still staring at him like he was a ghost! Well, maybe it _seemed_ that way, but he was as alive as he'd been before his unfortunate (and untimely) death. Primus, it would take a while to get used to those kinds of thoughts.

Ratchet was the first to recover, giving his head a sharp shake before putting on his best glare and striding over to his newest pair of patients.

"Yes, it's close enough I can carry him. I'm not sure how you're alive, but I don't want you straining anything that shouldn't be-Primus knows what sort of condition your systems are in, especially after being _dead_ for nearly five years. You're certainly not escaping a very thorough examination and a long stay in the med bay. Understood?"

Jazz nodded meekly, attempting to stand before promptly falling on his aft. Bluestreak and Smokescreen were delegated to carrying him for speed's sake while Ratchet and Optimus moved the newest arrival to Earth.

After getting Prowl settled in the med bay (Ratchet informed him that the newly landed mech would be out for a while) it was Jazz's turn. He sat patiently while the medic scanned his systems, monitored and recorded his spark pulse, recalibrated his gyros and motor systems, and replaced the old energon in his lines with fresh fluid. Eventually Prime made it back in, waiting to speak until Ratchet had finished unhooking Jazz from several monitors.

Before he could get a word in edgewise, Ratchet prefaced the talk with a warning. "You get exactly one breem, Prime. No more. He needs his rest as much as Prowl does." Optimus nodded in acquiescence before stepping closer to Jazz's berth.

"Jazz, what happened to you? You were quite certainly offline—Primus knows we tried everything we could to revive you. Nothing worked. Do you remember anything from your time offline?"

"Heh," Jazz shook his head, "I remember every second of tha' last fraggin' five years I spent that way…totally bodiless, just a spark floatin' in tha Void next ta tha Well 'o Allsparks. And I can tell ya in the most certain terms imaginable that yes, Primus _does_ exist. He's tha reason Ah'm here right now."

Optimus stared at Jazz speechlessly for a moment before gathering his thoughts. "Well…that's… good to know? Why now? I'm not complaining, but why wait five years before returning you to life?"

Jazz shook his head slowly. "Ah don' know, Prime. Something about how ah wasn't supposed ta be extinguished then. An tha' was His final word on tha matter. He didn't say anythin' else ta me the whole time." A low moan from the nearby berth caught their attention, and Optimus quietly excused himself with a smile, leaving the two alone (mostly).

The newly revived saboteur slipped out of his berth and moved to stand by Prowl's side, leaning over him so as to be in the mech's immediate field of vision when he onlined. He softly grasped the white servo nearest him and reached up with the other to caress the side of Prowl's smoothly curved helm. His intakes caught at the sight of those lovely blue optics flickering on and focusing on him with a nearly imperceptible smile. "Prowler…" He murmured reverentially, brushing one cheek softly with the back of his knuckle.

"Mmm, Jazz. You're…alive? I haven't been deactivated, have I? This isn't some memory purge? Oooh, no, it's not… Processor aches are not something that would exist after deactivation…" The hand not being held drifted up to massage the side of his helm as he grimaced. He met Jazz's visored optics again and took in every detail he could, reaching up to trace the silver fins adorning Jazz's helm, running his fingers over the saboteur's features, his feather-light touch slowly driving the silver mech insane. He reached Jazz's lower lip plates, tracing the pliable metal teasingly when Jazz finally gave in, ducking down and kissing him firmly, placing all his pent-up frustration and longing and passion into the embrace. Prowl responded in kind and their kiss escalated to the point where Jazz was half-straddling Prowl on the berth.

They were interrupted by loud _harrumph_ from Ratchet, who was glaring at them and waving a wrench threateningly. "You two can 'face all you want once _I_ give you the all clear, not until then, and _certainly_ not in my Med Bay!" The wrench waved a bit more to hasten Jazz's retreat to his own berth before the medic scanned their systems. He grudgingly gave them both a clean bill of health, but put them on medical rest leave for the rest of the day and all of the next to "work things out with each other." They were shoved out the door with a reminder to refuel often and get at least _some_ rest, fraggit!

They headed to the newest wing of the base, and Jazz even knew which quarters there were available, thanks to his view screen in the Void. Jazz stepped into the room first, reveling in the ability to feel things again, to physically reside in whatever particular space he happened to be in. Prowl leaned against the open doorframe, a smile working its way onto his lips as he watched his best friend and eventual other half grinning and running his servos over everything. It struck him, then, that Primus really _had_ answered his fervent prayers on the trip over. He hadn't had much faith that they'd be answered, but somehow, they had. He felt the need to share his revelation.

"Primus really does exist."

Jazz paused, meeting Prowl's optics over his shoulder. "…Yeah, He does. What about it?"

Prowl furrowed his brow, still unaware as to Jazz's explanation for his return to life. "How can you be so sure?"

Jazz flickered his optics briefly, then raised his visor to reply, "I talked ta Him mahself. I'll tell ya this, though, He's not terr'bly chatty. S'pose tha' comes from listening to mechs talking ta Him all tha time."

Prowl frowned for a moment, then murmured so low that Jazz missed it, "He took the time to listen to me." He met Jazz's gaze again, his smile (which was mostly reserved for Jazz) returning. "Hey, Jazz…"

"Yeah?"

"_I can imagine two worlds spinning apart, come together eventually…_" He cleared his vocalizer, a bit embarrassed. Jazz had a much better voice. "You were right, you know. And…" He stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him as he gently held the silver mech's face in his servos. "I love you. That's long overdue, since we were reunited several cycles ago. I also wanted to say that I don't think we should rush things. After all, we'd only just admitted our mutual attraction before you left, and though I'm still quite in love with you (and that isn't going to change) I think we should slow down a bit, date for a while, see where it goes, and-!"

Jazz cut him off mid-sentence with a soft, sweet kiss, Prowl vainly attempting to keep the contact when he pulled back. "You think too much, Prowler," Jazz whispered with a grin, "but I love you too."

They spent most of their medical leave happily ensconced in the—fortunately soundproofed—room that was eventually dubbed "Prowl and Jazz's Quarters."

P.S.- Though the Twins invented a name for it that they used as a sort of code. "Keep Out On Pain of Deactivation" or "KOOP'D" became commonly used on base.

"Hey, what's Jazz up to this evening?"

"Oh, he and Prowl are gonna be KOOP'D up tonight…"

"Ah, say no more…"

Edit: Author's Note: Hey! I forgot to stick one in here…I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form (though I wish I did) and I'm certainly not making any money off this. I just get warm fuzzies from seeing fave alerts and stuff in my e-mail inbox Hope you enjoyed reading this, and please review! (Also if you find any grammar/spelling errors that stand out, let me know, will you? Thanks!


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